Pet
by Sky Blue Angel
Summary: Wilson and House talk… Well, actually, Wilson talks and House makes some really bad jokes. They also exchange Blazing Saddles quotes. House/Wilson


"A rat

TITLE: Pet  
AUTHOR: Danielle  
PAIRING: House/Wilson  
RATING: PG  
WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, spoilers for "Hunter", slash, humor (I'm on a role!)  
SUMMARY: Wilson and House talk… Well, actually, Wilson talks and House makes some really bad jokes. They also exchange Blazing Saddles quotes.  
DISCLAIMER: House isn't mine, Blazing Saddles isn't mine. Both, however, are genius.  
NOTES: Sadly un-beta-ed, as my betas are not a) up at 2 am, b) online a lot Thanksgiving weekend or c) Okay, so there isn't another point. Shhhh. Blame most typos on this old, old keyboard I use at home.

"A rat?" Wilson was very pointedly not staring at Steve McQueen. In fact, he was looking everywhere except Steve.

"Four legs, sweaty tail, furry…. Why, you may be on to something there, James!" House hadn't moved from the couch, watching the squeaking wheel turn. His hands sat on the edge of the coffee table. "Watch him go."

"I'll pass, thanks." But he'd shifted from where he stood in the doorway, leaning closer to the mesh. "A rat? Really, there are lots of better pets."

"His name is Steve McQueen." The couch protested slightly as House moved tone side, not exactly motioning for Wilson with a jerk of his hand against the table. "He's clean, you know. No infections. Two weeks in the hospital can do that for anyone."

"Wait. Wait. This is the rat that was in Stacy's house?" He shook his head, sitting on the edge of the couch. "You brought him home?" A long-suffering sigh managed to escape as he looked the cage over. "Wait, what's lining that bottom of the cage?" His head shot up, eyes wide. "It's not…"

"A mix of your divorce papers and Stacy's therapy reports. The mulch is good for his feet. Had to run them through the shredder a few times to get the right consistency." He glanced at Wilson out of the corner of his eye. "The repairman's scheduled for tomorrow. I told Cuddy you'd be late."

"You managed to break the shredder, bring a rat home, beat up a patient's father and still find time to ruin Stacy's image of you? You've been busy, even for you." With another sigh, Wilson patted House's thigh. They sat for a moment, watching the little rat run in circles around the cage. "Did you get any food?"

"The Chinese place is closed. It's the night before Thanksgiving, you know." House could almost feel Wilson rolling his eyes. "Oh, for him? Can't he just eat our leftovers or something like that? He was living off of cigarettes before."

"If he's going to be a pet, we're going to treat him right. Tomorrow, after work, we can go supply shopping. Food, toys, a bigger cage, some bath supplies." Wilson gave a quiet laugh, leaning back into the couch. "It'll be a homely touch."

"Toys? He's a rat, James. Not a kid." House shifted on the couch, straightening his bad leg, brushing Wilson's leg with his toe. "We don't need to spoil him. He already has a wheel, doesn't he?" With a quick motion, he point around the cage. "Wheel for running, walls for climbing, water for drinking. Sounds good to me."

Wilson just laughed again, running his hand down to House's knee and closing his eyes. It seemed forever they sat there, the only sound the echoing squeak of the wheel and the tiny shifts House made on the couch. "You knew it was a bad idea from the start, Greg."

"Which part? The rat or the cage? I didn't think it was a good idea to let him run free. The neighbors might object." His hand slid on top of Wilson's, threading calloused fingers together. "And it would be quite a hassle to clean up after. I think you can only litter train rabbits."

"What about cats?" Wilson let his hand rest loosely in House's grip, staring up at the ceiling. "You stole her chart. What did you think she was going to say?" A slow smile spread across his face, filled with sadness and a dark humor. "Welcome sonny, make yourself at home, marry my daughter?"

"Blazing Saddles, Wilson? That's low, even for you." But a laugh had escaped and House had relaxed, rolling his thumb across Wilson's palm. "What comes next?" He made a pretense of thinking, running his free hand over his stubble. "You've got to remember, that these are just simple farmers, these are people of the land, the common clay of the new west. You know . . . morons." This time House was the one to sigh, staring quite intently at Steve. "Oddly enough, that doesn't apply to Stacy."

Wilson shook his head, squeezing House's thumb before pulling his hand away. "You do know that time passes, even when you've something so fascinating as a rat to watch run in place. And I'm hungry. Chinese?" When House nodded, he grabbed the phone, clicking the speed dial. "Did you really have to put that number before 911?"

"Yes." House nodded, never taking his eyes off Steve. Wilson settled back next to him after the order had been placed, watching the rat run in his wheel until the food came. They ate in silence, Wilson watching House watch Steve. The TV turned on sometime after the rice had been spilled on the remote, light flickering over them as an announcer promised them eternal happiness with clean bathrooms.


End file.
